Thursday, July 23, 2015

Hospital Room by Michael Estabrook

Tomorrow is his surgery
a tumorous kidney
so he calls
to more-or-less say good-bye
although he doesn’t
why would they bother doing
a 9-hour operation
if there was no hope?

I see him 3,000 miles away
watching TV
taking his meds
stretching up to see the tree outside the window
rubbing at the pain
in his back and down his legs
will it ever go away
will he get home again
to his own bed
coffee in his favorite mug
cinnamon toast with scrambled eggs
trying to finish the novel
he’s been working on
for a year and a half
plant those tulip bulbs
he ordered from Holland
so they come up in the spring?

Yes way too much still to be done
not a good time to die
operation must be successful
the doctor is a good doctor
or so he’s heard

Michael Estabrook is a recently retired baby boomer child-of-the-sixties poet freed finally after working 40 years for “The Man” and sometimes “The Woman.” No more useless meetings under florescent lights in stuffy windowless rooms. Now he’s able to devote serious time to making better poems when he’s not, of course, trying to satisfy his wife’s legendary Honey-Do List.

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